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Liveria, Elrithos

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His first task for the Queen’s Blade. Elrithos had only been this nervous maybe twice before in his lifetime. Yet this time, the difference was that it wasn’t the lives of his people that were at stake, but many more than that. However, he still held his composure and his cool as this mission seemed to be of great importance and he couldn’t let anyone down. It was important that all the missions the Queen’s Blade was put on had to be a success. It wasn’t a hard way to think about it… He had been doing it for many years.

His eyes wondered the small traveling group, a little mystified by his new surroundings. Having lived in the desert all his life, this was a whole new change in scenery. It was truly a wonderful view, all of this. Even the people he had gathered with were mildly astonishing. The elves with the dark skin had been the biggest surprise of the bunch, as he had never seen any of their kind baring the ashen skin. Why was it so? He would surely figure it out or at least he would be told one when time comes.

The first appearance of the signposts of skulls was a surprising sight, but when told that they were orcs, a savage species, it made a lot more sense. It was a simple sign to warn people that coming into their territories would mean probable death if they were unwelcomed. This was disregarded, but Elrithos would keep note of it. The Aavikanian kept quiet for now, letting the lead discuss about what was to come. Instead, he kept his eyes open to his environment. The notice of malformed, twisted evil walking around meant that something much greater than simple orcs were at hand there. Now the elf wondered if there were any connections between the two.

They eventually came to the small clearing, his eyes set on the path ahead. The rocks… His eyes set on them. Something was clearly off and it seemed that the lead had noticed it too. They came to a halt and Elrithos looked around him. It was an obvious site for an ambush, but of what nature? Was it a trap or a surprise attack? This lead to him picking up on the conversation of those ahead of him. Wait… It wasn’t the best idea. And so, he led his horse to come right behind them.

‘’If you do not mind having me putting my opinion on the matter…’’ It was easy to hear that he spoke with a thick accent, hinting out that this wasn’t a language spoke too commonly ‘’It would be best we do not wait for them to strike. It would let them time to adjust to our position and possibly make a better ambush. Worst, they could have time to send people behind us and block our exit route.’’ He then lifted his head to look around, thinking of a possible plan of action. ‘’We could try to provoke them instead, have them be forced to come out. If these are truly savages, then they will answer our lure, even if they have a strong chief.’’

He did not know if they would heed his words, but it was the best thing they could do. Savages were bound to make mistakes if they were taken by surprise in their own ambush.

Amazonia, Naream questions and arrogance...

Naream pondered for a moment, he knew enough that he seriously did not want to get close and personal with this drake, finally a thought occurred to him and he voiced it out loud. "I have a question, several even perhaps. The scales of a regular drake are tough, yes, but do drakes often fight each other? Perhaps over territory or mates? If so, can their own claws pierce their scales? Or are there simply weaknesses that your own people know off we can focus on when we face the beast." He gestured to her armour, either fashioned from a beast they had slain or collected from a dead carcass perhaps.

Princess Ethlinn blinks, somewhat confused with some of his questions. "Of course, they're like everything else in the Amazon." She looks him over, narrowing her eyes in annoyance. "I already told you the throat is a weakness when they attempt to attack with their acidic spit. I also told you they are slow to turn but fast in a charge. And, yes, their claws will pierce their hides, why?" Her staff glowed a little as she waited for his response.

He ignored her irritation, she looked somewhat attractive, for a surfacer, when angry. "Do you happen to have any claws in your possession? I think I, or perhaps with some assistance." He glanced at Esyllt Boudica for emphasis before he continued. "Create a construct, or several, that might be of great assistance in subduing or slaying the beast. What better way to arm them then what is sure to pierce it's tough scale hide."

"No." The amazon replies, shaking her head regretfully. "We only keep what we need. Their claws unfortunately do not mold well into weapons nor last long when separated from their corpses." Remarkable, the fact that they wanted to create a monstrosity didn't seem to bother her visible.

"A pity, I had hoped that perhaps some trophies remained, ah well, perhaps the idea still has merit, I have also a idea of a snake creature perhaps that can choke our drake friend and impede it's movements by wrapping itself around our prey."

With a sigh, Ethlinn rests her hand on Naream's shoulder and motions around the interior of the tree they were standing in. "We do not have giant snake corpses, or wolf corpses, or any corpses simply lying around. We cannibalize and use everything we possible can, we have to. I'm not sure if we have the kind of resources you are looking for."

He smirked, taking the hand slowly from his shoulder, giving it a light caress, before letting it go, he didn't mind being touched by a beautiful woman, but on his own terms. "I have access to a great wealth of corpses and other discarded materials." He idly traced over his amulet and then shrugged, "And thanks to the lessons of a fellow queensblade, a golem creature can be constructed as well, merely the imagination and our skill limits the resources we can use, metal, wood, plantlife, stone, all can be used."

The princess again appeared somewhat confused, uncertain as to how to respond she steps away from him and towards Queen Alexandria. "That is good, then."

"Well that can be discussed later, as for the potential demon infiltrator... I think I can help with that...." He glanced at his glove and sleeve covered arm, or more importantly what he had hiding beneath the cloth. "All it needs is me touching each candidate... your true Amazons... will be weakened... the demon... will be easily noticed."

"Do these demons not specialize in disguising themselves?" The princess retorts, now obviously uncomfortable with the idea of weakening any of her people. "The demon could simply feign the same response it witnesses from the others."

Naream smirks, "Not if we separate each candidate beforehand, and only have the queens blades and loyal warriors be present during the testing. Or would you tell me it is impossible to have each suspect come one at a time in a secluded area or room and after testing prevent them from contact with the other suspects? Of course keeping them under watch still till the succubus is found." He then shrugged, "That or if I am given preparation, we can create a ritual circle where each suspect stands in and I let my power flow into it and test all suspects at the same time."

Ethlinn's look turns icy as her teeth clench in anger... And frustration. Not necessarily even directed at him. "My people are not subjects to be pushed, tested, and weakened on a suspicion. Not by a man who speaks of creating monsters." Biting her lip she stops herself from saying anything more, then looks with a little desperation to Queen Alexandria. "Even mentioning we might do a 'test' like this would cause half of those suspected to demand fair trial by combat. The other half's family would be enraged enough to do it for them."

Naream raised his brows, "You yourself believes a succubus is among your people, yet you do not want it to be found? Or do you have any other way of quickly discovering the demon among the suspects?" He looks at queen Alex, waiting to see where apparently she will take this discussion since the Amazonian princess had decided to have her enter the conversation.

Alex grunts and shakes her head, "How about no, Naream. As much as I hate dealing with succubi... I've learned of something I dread far worse in my time dealing with the nobles." Her face pales just a fraction as she shudders, "Cultural sleights, ugh. No... I think this idea of duels is a good idea, unless we can come up with a better plan, though none come to mind that does not pose a far greater risk when dealing with their kind."

"Inefficient but I will bow down and submit to one of the queens I serve I suppose." He bowed stiffly.

Bowing her head respectfully and in thanks, the princess turns and faces Naream once more. "I am happy to have your assistance, but I cannot ask my people to do that which goes against their wishes. We survive on trust, honour, tradition. Without these things we are quickly reduced to nothing."

"Is that so? Have these suspects been informed there is a succubus among them?" Naream asked lightly. "No matter, if you want to be truthful about it all, just tell them there is a traitor among them and we have a way of finding out who are true of heart and who is the falsehood if all other methods fail, a burst of negative energy will make us spot who is human and who is not." He bowed again, this time to the Amazonian princess. "My humble contribution to ferreting out the traitor among your midst."

"No." The princess states plainly. It seemed she was done discussing that question.

Alex tenses and looks to Naream, "Enough is enough, Naream. May I remind you, that it is with luck that your practice is even permitted. If I recall, there are some who contest against your arts being allowed at all," she adds a warning growl under her breath. "They have enough to worry about without exposing them to your tests, Naream, as helpful as you intend them to be."

He narrowed his eyes but remained silent, curtly nodding his head in acknowledgement to queen Alex's statement. He wondered how they would think of his 'practices' when the demons became more of a threat. But for now, let them have their precious honour and culture be interfering with efficiency and getting the job done, all he did anyway was being a virtual slave to the queens till he got what was rightfully his regardless.

"Finally." The princess says with a sigh of relief, smiling softly as she looked at Alex with a thankful look in her eyes. "Do you have any other questions?"

He shook his head and merely gestured to the other queens blades if they had any other questions. Mentally he was already preparing and going over negative energy spells and rituals in the, in his mind, likely case of the failed testing of these duels they were considering. She said herself a succubus was a perfect infiltrator, so how would a duel reveal it? It boggled his mind.

Alex nods, "If any of mine are affected by the corruption of the succubi in this attempt to weed them out, that we do all we can to keep them from being made victim by the effects. As well, I have my wonders of how your amazons feel about duels of fighting constructs. There are some in my company whose strengths lie not within but in the things they create.

"Our shamans can fight with their spirits, we could allow golems and skeletons to take the place of their summoners." She mulls it over for a few moments before looking at the elderly woman still in the room. With a single motion, Narina clears her throat, and speaks with a tone that made her sound at least twice as old as she was. [b]"Our core belief is in passion, in all things. Even in duels this is present. If a person excels by using magic, or has an ally substitute for them, this is perfectly acceptable. Our duels are rarely lethal, these duels would be no exception to that. No killing blows, no real weapons, replicas will be used in the place of real weapons. Magic, too, must not leave any kind of serious damage. The point of a duel is to show the passion the combatant has for their chosen art and in how much they believe in themselves and respect their opponent, not in how good they are with any particular weapon."

Naream merely smirked upon hearing that, why fight himself when he can raise the dead to fight for him, or now thanks to his new school of magic create golems that will serve in the same regard. He did respect actual warriors of course, to disrespect them or disregard them was to invite a pointy, sharp object to be stabbed between your ribs. Still that only proved they were mortal, his undead creations do not tire, do not rest, they keep fighting until they are physically destroyed. And that was why his creations were superior to mortal warriors. But he wisely kept that to himself.

Time would tell...

what's up with rpg double posting lately...

Abida Qisaf - Free Holds

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Abida furrowed her brow as Mikan explained some of their options. She was finding it harder to think than usual as a swarm of illusions and details filled her vision in every direction. A mild pulsing was flowing out from her tattoo's, an altogether unusual symptom. If this continues, she thought, I'll need to seek out answers. She had been told that the markings would simply help her see where vision would be impaired. But their capabilities were only growing over time, and the shifting was something new entirely.

"While I do not doubt Rashid's swords, we are not the first to try and kill Deimos," Abida said. "A fight in the ball room would draw his guards; too many for us to fight. Subterfuge is the safest way to accomplish this, I agree." She paused before continuing. "However, the dance is not the way to do it. You may be skilled and passionate, but you are also Mikan. You would be the center of attention, and it would only take one person to recognize you for the entire plan to fall to disarray."

Closing her eyes, she blocked out all the distracting sights and gathered her thoughts. "Disguise us all as slaves, and we'd be hard pressed to kill the guards without alerting Deimos to our presence. We either need another way in, or we need another dancer. Someone trained in pleasure, someone who'd have some allure others lacked, and someone not known to be an agent of the Blades."

Zin - Rheinfeld

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Though the meeting ground was nothing grand or special, Zin was quite relieved to see it. The journey had not been dangerous or exceedingly long, but it had been somewhat awkward from a social standpoint. Draza and Zayn were amiable enough and made for fine traveling companions, but the others were less agreeable for different reasons. She hadn't made any special effort to hide her vampirism, since she knew it would be discovered sooner or later anyway and trying to hide it would have been a bad idea; she did not hide her silver eyes with illusions, and that of course earned some negative attention and hostility from the Templar soldiers, but she had expected as much when she decided to join the group going to Rheinfeld. Laenaia was part of the group of Queen's Blades, and after their library chat had revealed that the other woman was apparently spying on Zin she hadn't felt comfortable around her fellow vampire. That led to her trying to avoid Laenaia without making it obvious that she was doing so, which was not an easy task whilst traveling, especially when the Blades were naturally somewhat segregated from the Templars they traveled with thanks to the mere fact of being outsiders. Awkward though it was, after a few days it felt quite insignificant compared to the larger irritant: Kasim.

When they set up camp the first night, Kasim had approached her with flirtation and suggestion, which she tried her damnedest to deflect until he flat out propositioned her. He did not grow angry or threatening upon rejection, which Zin had experienced before with such forward men, but he was horribly persistent. Day and night, marching or in camp, the man was always nearby and ready with more flirtatious innuendos and boasts of his prowess in various skills, including of course his talents in bed. It was so constant and grating that once or twice Zin considered trying to fend off his advances with the power of her vampiric eyes, but she resisted the temptation and continued rebuffing him with neutral politeness and changing the topic whenever possible. That didn't always go over well, such as when she'd mentioned her views on the value of life and her own fear of death and he had lambasted her as a naive coward, but even that had been a welcome relief to the constant flirting and had sent Kasim away in apparent disgust, but only for a few hours, after which he had returned talking about how the best cure for cowardice was to lay with a brave man and take a portion of his courage in the form of his seed. There was a small silver lining to it all, in that the man was a fighter and offered suggestions of how to use illusions in combat to help those willing to actually wield weapons, but that truly did not outweigh the grating tediousness of his presence.

Now, having arrived at their destination, Zin hoped that more professional behavior would be displayed. They were representatives of Renalta and on a mission to help Rheinfeld, so surely juvenile nonsense would be set aside until it was complete. Most of the others seemed absorbed with examining the nearby Crusaders as Taigyn and Davian finished speaking, but Zin had paid them her full attention. Alida's absence was worrisome indeed. If some ill had befallen her, then it would likely mean bad things for the meeting to come. Finding her and making sure she was safe seemed the most important thing to do, and sending only the man with an obvious grudge against her seemed a poor choice.

"I'll help you find Alida." Zin stepped forth from the group of Queen's Blades and followed Davian, matching his pace but allowing him to stay ahead and lead the way as she adjusted her cloak's hood to make sure it still shielded her face well from the sun. "Better two sets of eyes than one, after all." That was the most diplomatic explanation she could offer to the man, to spare his pride. Saying she wanted to tag along to make sure he didn't say anything foolish and offend the Republican leader or start a fight would surely have been taken poorly.

---

Kasim - Rheinfeld

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The sight of tents spread out around the meeting area was something of a disappointment to Kasim. He had hoped for something grand, a palace or cathedral worthy of a meeting of such import, but in truth the place was nothing special. Even the tents were boring, all orderly and neat and lacking ornamentation. Such was to be expected from the rigid Templar Order, of course, but that did nothing to make it less disappointing. The one thing that could be said for it was that it was in keeping with the rest of the mission so far. It had been boring disappointment all the way from Renalta, through the mountains, and to this little camp. The large temple they'd passed by had seemed promising, but of course that hadn't been the meeting place, for that would have been too exciting. Even the people had been unsatisfactory. Some of the Templar soldiers had been willing to chat and swap tales, but most were too stiff-necked to even crack a smile. The other Queen's Blades were alright in their own ways, at least. The women were the worst of it though, and they dragged his opinion of the whole lot of his traveling companions down a few pegs. A large portion of them were the unappealing sort he would only pursue after a night of drinking, thick or scarred or with faces so mannish that the only way to tell their gender was to look for tits, and he hadn't thought to pack any barrels of ale, alas. The rest were unwilling or uninterested, some claiming vows of celibacy and others simply rejecting him, even the few he paid particular attention to and worked his full charms on. The two vampire women of the Queen's Blades group were part of that group; the one openly showing her silver eyes was willing enough to talk to him all day but avoided all advances, and the more secretive one made all sorts of coy jokes and teased him but turned him away from her tent each night all the same. Even his telepathic abilities had been of no help, since none of them were the sort of lowly folks his more specialized talents worked on. It was quite frustrating, but Kasim had his pride and did not sink to bedding the horrors walking about in female guise. He did consider riding off to find the Republican forces and see if they might be more amenable to his desires, and if not then many of them were bedraggled enough that he could probably add some stealthy telepathic suggestions into the mix, but he was too stubborn to give up entirely on the women he'd already set his eyes on.

Now that they were at the meeting place, however, could seek out other targets of conquest without implicitly admitting defeat where the others were concerned. The Templar commanders, Ty-something the leader and the grouchy one who was his second, were saying things, but Kasim was too busy searching for new prospects to pay them much attention. Though he didn't find much in the way of likely ladies, he did notice some oddities. Some of the soldiers around the large tent, from both factions at the meeting, were keeping away from the tent for some reason. The nearby Crusaders doing this seemed to be particularly interested in the new arrivals and their weapons. One of them, a woman, wore a cloak that seemed almost exactly the kind Free Holds assassins wore. Kasim could think of only a couple reasons for such behavior, and he didn't think it highly likely that these people near the main tent and not keeping others away were guards or sentries. The only other explanation he could think of was that some nefarious activity was afoot, and that could only mean bad things.

The surly second was walking away by the time he came to this conclusion, and one of the Blades was following him. Kasim figured one more Templar and a pacifist vampire wouldn't make a huge difference if he was right about the loiterers around the tent being there for a bad cause, so he dismissed them from his mind and removed his gloves, tucking them away into his belt. Once that was done, he looked around the area again and put on a smile, a cocky upturn of the left side of his mouth, and headed for the cloaked woman. She looked like the most likely candidate for the leader of this odd group, and if his suspicions were completely wrong then at least she was a woman and didn't look horrendous from what he could see, so not matter what happened Kasim hoped to profit from a little chat.

As something of an afterthought, Kasim reached out to his fellow Queen's Blades (minus Zin) and to the Templar leader with his telepathy and spoke to them as he walked toward the woman. "Hi there, this is Kasim. Try not to get stupid surprised looks on your faces, it's just telepathy. These few soldiers eying our weapons are all keeping away from the meeting tent for no real reason I can see. Either they're oddly placed guards, or they're up to no good and waiting around to start trouble. I'm going to have a chat with the woman in the cloak and see what I can find out."

When he neared the woman in question, Kasim flashed her a grin. "I noticed you staring at me. You've got good taste, I'll give you that. I'm Kasim." He held out his bare hand, offering it for a handshake. Hopefully she wasn't wearing gloves and would take the offer, which would let Kasim get a glimpse of her thoughts via his telepathy. If she was wearing gloves but went for the shake anyway he would feign some clumsiness and miss a clean grip, hopefully brushing some fingers over her bare wrist of lower forearm. If the woman was not at all inclined to shake his hand then he'd have to find some other way to try to touch her skin, and if it came by way of her falling for his display of lascivious intent then he wouldn't really complain.

The Grand Ball
Xixis & Esyllt

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Hard to believe she was only a few days away from home, Esyllt could not shake the sense of awe the entrance of all the other nations had brought upon her. From golden armours, to goblins riding scorpions. She could feel her heart pound as high as her throat merely by the memory it, and now she stood in the middle of it all; wearing a ballroom gown specially made by the master tailor of Edmundal for this occasion. Esyllt remembered the tailor sweating and stuttering when she had brought up the subject. Hadn't her request been accompanied by a direct order from Edmundal's reigning lord, he would have profoundly refused the task. Efforts nor resources had been spared and the result was unlike Esyllt had ever dared imagine wearing. Now, the tightly strapped corset, the laces on her back and layers of half-cut ruffles falling down from her hips, made the ballroom gown her only awkward reminder of home amidst a gathering of the world's ruling class.

Although Esyllt steeled her face and composure to remain graceful, but had a hard time fighting off the blush on her cheeks. She felt like a small child within the ballroom. Renalta was a land of many races and cultures, but the Edmundal certainly wasn't visited by anything but the odd halfling or elf. It was exciting and overwhelming, and Esyllt kept catching herself staring just a little too long at the different races. The heat of battle and crisis had been between herself and fawning over Naraem, Aëyr and Draza earlier, but now she simply couldn't keep her eyes off of the magnificent variety in people that had gathered at the ball. Her attention shifted to a green man with a strange animal accompanying him. Esyllt brought her hand to her mouth to smother a small shriek of excitement she let out, seeing the an eight-legged creature as big as a full-grown man. It had a tail almost the creature’s entire body-length that arced over it’s back. Esyllt had stared just a little too long at the goblin and his animal to have gone unnoticed.

Esyllt, painfully aware of the ball's purpose and to an extent, her being a representative of the Queen's Blades. She couldn't wander off into the crowds after exchanging eye-contact. Forcing a modest smile, she walked over to the goblin in question. “Are you enjoying yourselves?” Esyllt asked politely, doing her best to not let her nerves echo through her voice. “Esyllt Boudica, knight of Edmundal and member of the Queen's Blades.” She made a small bow, as she ran through the long forgotten memories of ballroom etiquette she'd been taught at home. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”  

The Scorpion skittered at her approach. “Well, I wouldn’t want to speak for Skatz here, but it is most adequate, though it lacks the boisterousness of some events.” Xixis cocked his head at the woman, he supposed she might have been pretty for a pinkskin, but he’d always felt like throwing up a little whenever he considered their kind that way. “I do hope you don’t intend to work in an outfit like that.” Xixis chuckled.

“Of course.” Esyllt smiled, this time more genuinely. She felt a weight drop off her shoulders at the goblin's casual response. Boisterous was contrary to the etiquette of the ballroom she knew, but Esyllt knew very little of the cultures of other countries nor their festivities.

“Skatz is the name of your...” Esyllt took a moment to think, not actually knowing what a scorpion was, “-Pet, is it? It is a creature unlike I've ever seen. Is it's kind common in your homeland?”

Perceptive as always Xixis noticed that relaxation. “Don’t worry Esyllt. Not all us rulers of nations have pikes up our arses, but pet, companion, mount, assassin dissuader Skatz is the second of his line to serve in such a role for me. But yes, they’re fairly common. Pity I could not bring the Asimov Worm to show off. Fluffy has intimidated more than a few to surrender.”

Esyllt was not sure how to respond to such a crude language, less so than the fact those words from a king. In her curiosity, she’d failed to recognise the goblin as Xixis, ruler of the Goblin Holds. In truth, Esyllt found it difficult to tell goblins apart, but she could not let that thought surface. Nonetheless, it took a hold of her tongue for a few silent moments.

“How interesting,” Esyllt recovered, unsure how she could speak to the goblin king in orderly fashion. “It must be intelligent to fulfill so many roles.” She commended Skatz, as her eyes strayed towards the scorpion. Esyllt studied it’s body, it’s structure, the way it moved. It was truly something she’d never seen before. Her (desperately) collected composure somewhat faltered in the light of her curiosity, as Esyllt’s eyes sparkled and her voice loosened a little.

“In my home, we have but horses and dogs. Fine animals in their own right, but nothing like Skatz.” Esyllt spoke, turning back to Xixis. She blushed a little before she continued with a question that had been on her mind since she Xixis mentioned the scorpion’s role as a companion. “Would you mind if I… If I pet it?”

Xixis paused thoughtfully. “I haven’t had a good haunch of dog in weeks, I should see if Kouri can get her chefs to get me some, some of the dogs here are terribly fat and juicy looking.” Xixis grinned. “Horse is ok, but on the tough side, as for patting Skatz, I would not advise it, it dissuades assassins in a very specific manner like that.” He thumbed over his shoulder at the stinger tail waving carefully. “He is smart enough, but not much more so than a well trained horse or camel, he’s just much deadlier.”

“I see.” Esyllt flinched a little at how Xixis described Skatz’ likely reaction, but moreso at the mention of eating dogs and horses, animals Esyllt only knew as companions. She would not speak out to the king, but Esyllt feared for the life of the animal that she had ridden to the capital.

Xixis chuckled. “Kouri reacted much the same way.” He winked at her.

“Oh, did she?” Esyllt suddenly felt a little more connected to the queen, in spite of never having spoken with either. The more she spoke with Xixis however, the more Esyllt realised he was closer to a countryman than nobility in behaviour. “I could only imagine her majesty’s reaction. Neither constitutes as a meal here in Renalta. Dogs are companions, shepherds and guards. Horses are mounts and labourers. Our cuisine must be very different from yours. I hope dinner was to your liking.” Esyllt let out a soft giggle, though she quickly smothered it not to offend the king. Strange as the goblin’s mannerisms were, she couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

“Oh, the Cuisines of the Free Holds and Goblin Holds are spicier, but not that much different to your own,” Xixis said plainly, “Of Cat, Dog and Horse as well as other species it’s a matter of wealth, I would wager that there are regions in Rheinfeld, Tuleria and even the Amazons who during times of great poverty have been forced to consume the flesh of animals they thought they would never, such as even rat.”

Rat Esyllt only knew as carrier of disease. She herself had lived in poverty before the kind lord extended his hand to her and her mother, but never had she turned to eating rat. Perhaps that was the difference between an entire nation in poverty, versus her own experiences.

Xixis sighed. “And before my rise Goblins have never been wealthy or looked down on well, and so I have to use sorcery to force equality. It’s a lesson the dogs of the Free Holds learn slowly.” He manipulated some dust and dirt in the hall to create a tiny dragon golem, it was little more than a magically animated caricature but it amused him to make it anway.

Xixis decided not to mention how alike man-flesh was to bacon. Delicious bacon...

Esyllt held her silence as Xixis commented on the Free Holds. She knew too little of international affairs to discuss such topics, especially at a ball that was supposed to unite nations. Yet when Xixis animated a small dragon… “Is that golemancy?” She asked, quite surprised. “Coincidence has it, I dabble in it myself.” Esyllt said, far too modestly. To reprociate Xixis’ creation, she summoned small pebbles of rock from her pocket dimension and let them form into a tiny Skatz in her hand.

“Would this look about right?” She asked, continuing to rearrange the structure roughly as she looked at the scorpion, probably unaware it was modeling.

“Equality has been a topic in Renalta as well. We live under the united rule of our queens, but generations of habits don’t die easily. Many cities struggle with the new morals, as does my home unfortunately.” Esyllt thought back of Edmundal. One of the very reasons she’d only ever seen humans, spare the odd elf and halfling, was because Edmundal was not as tolerant or the other races as their new monarchs. Although her adoptive father and lord had tried to adapt Edmundal in the Queens their vision, the townsfolk didn’t change overnight…

“It must be challenging, ruling a nation. I can only imagine.” Esyllt wondered out loud, showing slight surprise to how quickly she’d gotten to speak so easily with the goblin king…

Xixis chuckled and turned the sand dragon to glass. “No it’s not a true golem, the moment I ceased animating it it’d return to mere sand. And it looks alright.” Skatz began to take on an agitated stance. “But scorpions are not terribly social with other scorpions.”

“As for ruling.” Xixis said with a slight frown. “It is simple enough if you have the power and will to force hands, though I am a Goblin ruling an nation of ex-slaves. When most were once downtrodden it is easy to see the virtues of equality, even if the Freeholds do not. Orcs, Goblins, Humans, Elves, Trolls, Ogres and Grumpkins are all welcome, we care not your race so long as you respect our laws.” Xixis shrugged.

“True equality. Though our methods are differ, that is not too different from Renalta’s vision.” Esyllt said, although rule through force was somewhat of a bad memory for Renalta it’s citizens still. Then again, racism was still a big topic in the isolated towns, even if Renalta was becoming more coloured by the day. The topic was way over the woman’s simple understandings of politics, she didn’t dare speak of it in front of a king.

Esyllt let the scorpion-golem fall to pebbles in the palm of her hand, before putting them away. “I have never met another golemancer and I know little of it besides my own discipline. I inherited the knowledge from my father, but I have no memory of him.” Esyllt admitted, somewhat disappointed that Xixis wasn’t a true master of her art. Still, her spirit uplifted a little when she remembered Naraem.

“Yet, an ally in the Blades has recently asked me to show him the craft. He is a quick learner and creative thinker. Simply studying together teaches me new perspectives.” She spoke with enthusiasm. “Answering the Queens’ call has blessed me with both the honour of service as well as a wealth of opportunity. I know little of the world and you are truly the first goblin I’ve ever spoken to.”

“Be wary,” Xixis said calmly, “Not all of my kind are as well disposed as I am, many have been mistreated for most of their lives and though we are not a terribly long lived species without magic intervention our memories are long and grudges are hard to let go of.” He reclined a bit in on Skatz’s carapace. “And for some goblins, and orcs, the taste of human flesh is not a strange one.” He chuckled, “And please, don’t misinterpret that as a sexual advance, I’m sure you’re attractive enough for your kind but just the thought of that made me throw up in my mouth a little.” He grinned to show he was just being humorous… despite the slight taste of bile.

Esyllt decided to let the comment go, part unsure how to respond, but also part because in spite or reminding her more of an barbarian Xixis was still a king. “Thank you for your warning.” Esyllt decided upon, although she also remembered Xixis’ earlier request for her not to worry so much about appearances... “There seems to be much I do not know about the Goblin Holds. Would you care to tell me more about your lands?”

---

The Grand Ball
Maeven & Esyllt

---

Although thoroughly enticed by Xixis' stories, other matters would come to the goblin king's attention. Esyllt thanked him for his company and stories, before she wandered back to the ballroom. Although she had filled with courage to make acquaintances with yet another culture, it was a familiar figure she noticed dance with Naraem. Esyllt had a question for the drow's dancing partner, something she couldn't help but ponder. When she left Naraem's hand, Esyllt followed and approached the woman.

“Excuse me, you are Maeven Lucre, is that right?” Esyllt wasn’t sure, she was certain she'd recognised the woman, but her hair was of a different colour. “Esyllt Boudica, we’ve fought together but I believe we haven’t been properly introduced.”

Maeven stops from her listening on on the various conversations of the people about her, letting her drink drop to a tray of a servant nearby after she sips from it one last time. Finally she turns to address the most recent person to address her. She was growing famous it seemed. She smiles and offers her hand out to this Esyllt. “In the flesh. Is it my mechanics you heard about? I was known for my shop in Tuleria for a time, but I’m afraid I’m no longer open for business if that’s what you wished to talk about…” She pauses, Esyllt’s features a little familiar before she can place them. “Ah, you are right, though. We have seen each other. Back in Arian. Back at the little game.”

Esyllt shuddered at the mention of the skirmish as a game, hopefully Maeven wasn’t as insane as the little girl who dubbed it as such. “I have no doubt your mechanical skills are top-notch,” Esyllt smiled politely, hoping to ease into the topic she’d wanted to bring up with a little small talk. “I have never seen anything quite like an iron dragon. Of course, I must admit I’m not familiar with mechanisms or dragons.”

Even if she was genuinely curious about Fafnir, Tuleria and engineering, something else weighed on her mind. “There is something I wanted to ask you, if I am not too forward, but it has come to my attention that you’ve spoken with the girl who fought us in Arian. The entire ordeal remains a mystery for me, why would a young child command demons and threaten to destroy a town? It is beyond my comprehension.”

Maeven suddenly wished for her drink back. Her eyes flit across the ball room, trying to pinpoint where the key people were and make sure they were just far enough away from her that she was not going to get in trouble. Gustavo was not supposed to really be making a scene she was figuring, she could barely catch him and she was used to spying things most did not notice. Amanda was off trying to bother a goblinoid. Kouri and Alex were busy with other dignitaries for the moment… She turns to Esyllt and drops her voice in volume from before, not entirely sure why herself but feeling a bit protective of Meryl now after knowing her.

“Look… I don’t know the entire story myself… But if you talked to her, you’d know that she has connections with Sloth.” She pauses trying to let that sink in, “Yes. THAT Sloth. The demonlord. It should explain the command of demons right away.” She pauses and shakes her, crossing her head, “Her name is Meryl, though, and she really is a sweet girl, though. And I’m not really sure how she came into the company of James the Illusionist. All I know is that that rat bastard tricked her. He told her that people could be fixed like they could in the Nine Hells so it was all a game.”

“She herself came from the Nine Hells?” Esyllt suffocated a gasp and spoke in the lowest whisper she could manage. She was quite taken aback by Maeven’s answer, finding it difficult to swallow. “There walk demons among us already...” Esyllt murmured, it would explain the company she kept... No wonder Maeven had to whisper. Certainly, Esyllt was not to question the conduct under orders of the throne, but from both the streets and the library, all demons were inherently evil and sinister. “I read demons are expert tricksters.” Esyllt suggested, calmly and neutral as she could. “Is it possible to trust Meryl’s word? What about her book, have they confiscated it?”

Maeven furrows her brow before turning with a servant that passes by to steal another drink, downing it with one go to try and keep up with this conversation. It was frustrating her to hear about the way Esyllt regarded Meryl. She holds up a finger to collect what all was just said before addressing each point as it needed to be. “I don’t know where she came from, but she definitely spent some times in the Hells with Sloth and It must have been fond of her and It her just from tales of some of their interactions or we have no understandings of the Nine Hells at all, which I find highly unlikely.” She taps the empty wine glass along her other hand as she purses her lips, looking up at the ceiling.

“Secondly, I don’t think she’s a demon. Gustavo made mention of a puppet? And the angels present have not gone up in a panic about her presence on the grounds…” Maeven pauses for a moment before focusing her gaze upon Esyllt, “And something I think very key there… She almost seems like a blank slate for things to be written. Most everyone seems to believe that demons are innately demons of chaos and bound to exhibit the corruption they are born of. She doesn’t speak of any of them and has no demonic traits to speak of… And as for Meryl’s word… I trust it. A lot farther than I can say of most people.”

She puts on a hollow smile to Esyllt before raising her free hand, waggling a single finger, “Ah, but before you make a habit of putting all demons in the same basket… Keep in mind… The King Boann of Tuleria has Demon blood… As did two of the Legendary heroes that successfully completed the journey with the esteemed Queen Kouri… And their Sister, that sacrificed herself, or so the tale goes, so that they could make it out of the Warlord’s Keep at Southblood. We do not live in a world where it is safe to speak in ignorant black and whites. You do not know who you will offend.”

It was true that the angels would have noticed a demon below… Although Esyllt never had seen a celestial being before, she had noticed some guests with something radiant about them… Well that and one guest had two white wings popping out of his back. Still, the tale of demonic blood amongst the heroes of Renalta was new to Esyllt; a note contrary to all she had previously believed. Esyllt would inquire Naraem later, because Xixis already had proven his race to be different from the insult worse than calling one’s mother a harlot, and the drow had appeared mannered even… Even if a little obsessed with death and nonchalant about the dead.

“I did not know that.” The restrain in her voice hinted at Esyllt not being convinced (as well as slightly annoyed, as she frowned at Maeven’s wagging finger). “The writings make it seem like our knowledge covers their nature and structure, but much I’ve learned has already been pulled into question since my arrival.” She admitted, but for some reason she found it difficult to swallow Maeven knew that much more than her.

“We need to learn more about this. Even if Meryll is innocent, her presence and company is worrying. She must have been sent here with a reason…” Esyllt thought, but couldn’t grasp exactly what it was… Nor James the Illusionist’s motivation behind the attack. There was so much Esyllt couldn’t even grasp, it was difficult to tell if anything was real. For the first time that evening, she mimicked Maeven and pulled a drink away from a nearby servant to wash away the doubt and chaos. Although the alcohol did little to clear her mind at all…

“I don’t know how this makes you speak so much clea- hic.” Esyllt hiccuped, then coughed not to choke on her drink. Maeven had robbed her of her composure somehow, something even Xixis’ lewd comments hadn’t managed to do.

Maeven pauses for a moment before wriggling her fingers with a giggle, twirling the glass between them. “Showmanship, sweetheart…” She pauses before trying to balance the empty glass on her palm and barely catches it before it can fall. “And that I’ve had to hold my liquor in the past.” she winks before letting the playfulness drop, a dangerous glint coming to her eyes. “You, of course… Might be thinking along the wrong path. Thinking she’s sent on a mission. She’s still a child. Someone loves her. She could have been swooped up, abducted… Or maybe she’s just a lot more powerful than we give her credit and can be taken advantage of easily. Kids, you know. They’re what you mold them to be. Be they monsters or saints. I hope you aren’t one who would see to treat her like a monster or that’s just what she’ll become, though.”

Esyllt found the logic in that with human children, but she still had to pull Meryl’s humanity into question. Many animals held onto their feral instincts, even if treated well, she’d learned. “I don’t know,” Esyllt admitted, though she couldn’t shake her unease, “I hope you are right, all these unanswered questions worry me… To think someone would use a child for their killing intent is as disturbing as a child with killing intent themselves. Bandits in our regions sometimes use their children to catch travelers off-guard, but never do even these villains put swords in their hands, much less tomes to summon hellspawn with.”

Esyllt sighed, and threw her at her feet. “It would sadden me to learn our enemy would push children this far. I hope you are right for Meryl’s sake, but I hope you are wrong for ours.”

“With some of the villains in our midsts, those we oppose have to be the vilest this and the other realms have to offer, Esyllt,” she nods to the Free Holds, “How else do you rationalize murderers, slavers and more being with the good guys, hmm?” She snorts and begins to walk away. She felt this conversation was about at its end.

A feeling that was mutual, as with a small nod Esyllt acknowledged the hint. Perhaps she was naive to the outside world, but in some way Esyllt couldn't help but sympathise with Maeven's feelings. The prospect of their future was so dark, she'd hope for the child's innocence.. Even if it only meant tipping the balance in her heart.

Elrbetrt Westfeld
Liveria - Heaven's Haven

---

It was exciting to say the least.

To be finally free of the house, and take in all these new things. It was intimidating at first, as she had no idea where to go, what to do, or even where the roads were. Elrbetrt, or El as those who were close to her called her, was very grateful for the presence of her personal maid. She would be lost somewhere, being prey to bandits with no handsome prince to save her if her maid had not been there to guide her, and comfort her when she grew doubtful of her cause. After several weeks on the road, El had honed her senses to a such a degree she could hear a leaf crackle from far away, she could smell the oil used to maintain weapons at close range, and even through the infernal bumping and jostling of her destrier, know what sort of ground it was stepping on. Incidentally rocky terrains inflict much more pain upon her maidenly rear than soft ground or paved roads.

The sound and smell made up for it however, they had stopped upon a most heavenly open place, where she could feel the sun shining upon her unhindered, and the most fragrant smell came to her nose. Her maid told her it was a meadow blooming full of flowers. What she wouldn't give to see the light.

They had finally joined the Queen's Blade a few weeks after the meadow, where a group of knights who seemed to bear the same purpose as the Westfelds were. Not surprisingly, she had taken up the quest for the angels supposedly hiding out near the Liverian mountains. El had resigned herself for another long trot back to Liveria, with Janli, her maid, beginning preparations for such. Thus the introduction of the mage tunnels, or corridors came as a surprise to her.

In mere minutes, they were back on the soils of Liveria, her destrier seemingly excited at the smell of fresh air, and presumably at being back in its homeland. Janli's palfrey however, was more interested in the grass that grew, judging from the sounds of spirited chomping upon a patch of grass nearby.

The journey to the foothills themselves were pleasant, but the smell of decay and blood kept Elrbetrt from enjoying the ride. A slight hollow whistling of the winds and a distinct dusty smell told her all she needed to know. They had stopped in front of some sort of skulls on a stick, the wind making a slight noise every time it blew through the sockets. There seemed to be something else at the skulls, most likely some writings from the faint smell of ink, but reading was beyond her ability.

As hey moved deeper into orc territory, she could hear some pitter patter of small feet behind them, as well as heavier footsteps.She looked around, trying to hear more, wondering if she should have told the other knights. The other knights seemed aware of the threat however, judging from how they were going on with evil and malevolent things from the Nine Hells itself. Then they should have no problem detecting those people who came behind them. Who else but people have those sort of steps?

A while later, they stopped in a small clearing, where the smell of fresh earth was prevalent, though there was still that smell of filth underlying it. Her maid mentioned there were a collection of boulders ahead, looking very suspicious with their placing and arrangements, as if funneling them into a trap.

‘’If you do not mind having me putting my opinion on the matter…’’ He had a very thick accent, further strengthening his identity with El, who before, had only his scent to remember him by. ‘’It would be best we do not wait for them to strike. It would let them time to adjust to our position and possibly make a better ambush. Worst, they could have time to send people behind us and block our exit route. We could try to provoke them instead, have them be forced to come out. If these are truly savages, then they will answer our lure, even if they have a strong chief.’’

This must be a foreign knight, come to help the land against evil. She did not see much flaw in his plan, but... what if the traps were made not by savages? And what if those people behind them were..... She looked around again, a frown forming beneath the featureless faceplate helm. Orcs were orcs, and were supposedly big and scary from what she heard from the stories they tell her. If so... who were the ones behind them?

"Perhaps.... another route would be an option? If not, there is no other choice save to wait here, or to charge straight ahead through what may be a trap." She blushed horrifically at that, grateful her helm hid her face. Mustering up the courage to speak to what seemed to be a company of hardened, veteran knights was hard to say the least, not to mention they might take that as insolence towards one's betters.

Alicia Le'roux-The Amazon Mission

---

Ever since the group had entered the Amazon’s forest, Alicia had felt a certain mysticism overcome her. The heat, the shade, the very thickness of the air: all of it felt so radically different from the Liverian land she called home. The two were incompatible, and something about the Amazonian homeland had Alicia feeling...predatory.

Of course, the fact that the small pack of Queen’s blades was being led by the Ethlinn was no small boon, seeing her was still eliciting the same excitement as when the vampire first spotted her from the party. Something inexplicable and internal that was unlike anything she’d experienced before: an excitement that enticed not only her vampiric side, as she had first thought, but even that oh-so human curiosity that drove Alicia.

Still, the ride proved pleasant for the Vampire, and she even took a few moments to examine the work Jacque had done polishing her swords: The glint they gave in the humidity was fantastic, astonishing, even.

When the party eventually stopped in one of the villages, Alicia was left mildly confused. Compared to Arien village, the place left a lot to be desired, and yet it still had a sort of quaint charm to it. The group followed Ethlinn and the Renaltan Queen into a small hut, where they met an elderly-looking woman. Soon enough, Ethlinn had finished asking her questions, and Alicia was hit by the fact that apparently, an Amazonian could consider themselves lucky if they reached the age of forty five. The notion seemed ridiculous to her! Even without vampirism, Alicia herself had been alive for over three decades, and that meant that Ethlinn couldn’t have more than twenty years life expectancy remaining. The thought shook her more than would be considered decent, if there were mind readers amongst them.

While Ethlinn did her rounds, Alicia took a moment to enjoy the attention given to her by the princess, a slight smile parting her lips when attention was paid to her. She didn’t miss the fact that everyone seemed to earn a probing glance from the beautiful princess, nor did she miss how much more attention Queen Alex was getting. The fact annoyed her greatly, and she had to try her damndest not to pout in annoyance, even if her previous smile shifted back into a flat, emotionless expression. It was of course natural for Alex to be the desirable one: She had power, she was a living embodiment of savagery and she was beautiful to boot. Never the less, Alicia felt a growing jealousy in her. It wasn’t a fair jealousy, or a civil one. It was jealousy because she was jealous, damnit. She felt something, wasn’t that the point the amazonian had stressed to her in the halls?

Yet Alicia held back any contemptuous pride, or ugly jealousy. She thought on what Hanus would have said, if she knew the brewing feelings. The prickly bastard would sure get kicks out of the information, to be sure. That fact alone was enough of a cold shower to put the thoughts to bed: and she focused on the information she learned about the drake: none of which was good.

By the sounds of it, Alicia was going to be at a considerable disadvantage against the beast. Her Rapier would do little against a heavily armoured beast, and even if she managed to get at the throat: thrusts would be inferior in every way to a good, solid slash. She may have been more adept with her rapier, but she was hardly a one trick pony. She would simply have to make arrangements with the Princess. She opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by the next issue.

The information about the duelling tournament was one that suddenly got her eyes wide and her lips curled back into a smile. This, this was something she could do. One-on-one combat, it was perfect for her. She could root out the issue, impressing Alex and making up for her dismal performance at the Village, and she could impress the princess by showing off her talents. It was perfect!

And then Naream spoke out his alternate strategy. He heard the proposed change of plans and felt like strangling the man: even if he meant well. His good intentions would ruin everything! She was silently glad that both Alex and Ethlinn shot down his intentions, but as he finished speaking, she realised with a mix of horror and confusion that she was rooting for the illogical plan. What the hell was wrong with her? Naream was correct: testing each being with magic was almost certainly more efficient and much safer, but some part of her didn’t want safety, or efficiency...It wanted to fight, and to win, and to prove herself.

With Naream finished speaking, Alicia stepped forward to speak. She didn’t have any grand alternate plans, like Naream, though. “I will be glad to represent the Queen’s blades in the duels. Fighting some of the finest Amazon warriors will be an honour and a test I look forward to.” She glanced at Ethlinn, tempted to add more, but choosing to stick to what she should be speaking about. “I do have a request of the Amazon people though.” She drew her rapier, planting the tip of the weapon against the floor. “My weapon won’t be much use against a drake, so may I requisition a weapon? A spear, would perhaps be ideal. It would be appreciated if I could get the weapon prior to the duels: might be useful to have a longer reaching weapon if the demon's threat is poison.”

Rust - Amazon Mission
---

Going for a ride was a pleasant way to spent a few hours of the day, if partially because he knew how to ride, which had surprised him at first, a few weeks ago. Now it seemed like the instinctive, conditioned actions of a well ranked man of arms, riding the horse with ease, but not quite the fluid, born-in-the-saddle, intuition of a man of cavalry. As the team moved through the Imperium lands and into the jungle of the Amazons, Rust's head was slowly swiveling, the splinted chain of his armour quietly shuffling with his movements as he took in the landscape and geographical cues. The armour he wore was the same as that which he wore at the ball, the plate armour he had requested, was still being made to his dimensions, which was causing some difficulty for the armourers, as he was far from what they were used to. But even so, stuffed with two sets of padding, of the gambeson and arming doublet, with the chain over top, Rust seemed quite comfortable in the heat of day, perhaps because he didn't notice it.

The village was quite different than what he was used to however, built into the forest, in harmony with it, rather than a clearing made and houses constructed. The people were rather different in their clothing, lacking the modesty of where he had so far been. It wasn't a total shock, as he had heard several rumours passed on to him since the missions had come, yet still, it was different. Quite different.

Dismounting before the tree, he tied off the horse, not knowing its training, before following the royalty inside, though he elected to leave his spear outside for now. He listened to the telling of the drake's attributes and tactics used intently, a debriefing was relaxing in a way. However the lack of clarification on one thing troubled him slightly, as he adjusted his shield for the moment, he held it in mind. The vines were an interesting addition, a helpful tool in subduing a beast of any size, but especially something of this apparent grandness. As the topic shifted to the succubi, and the plan of duels to flush it out, he considered this. If it sought to poison them, he would only be there for appearance, as it wouldn't waste its time on something with no flesh to harm. But dueling the Amazons themselves had an appeal, to test himself against other men and women of combat, to see how his skills compared to theirs, a worthy, honorable fight. Yes again however, something caught his attention of what Ethlinn said, and as he opened his jaw to speak, he missed the moment to the faster acting Naream.

His listened and waited, and while his new acquaintance's ideas had a bit of merit, they also seemed to be missing one of the crucial details. Then, as Alicia offered her approval of the duels, he joined in after her, stepping forward with his left hand on the mount of his blade's scabbard, while bowing slightly, "It would be an honour to test my skills against those of the Amazon warriors. Straightening, he continued, "However, I have two questions about this mission. The first being that you say this Drake we are to hunt is malformed, I only ask as it seems this aberrant mutation seems to have made this beast tougher than you are accustomed to. Also, if we slay this demon and it returns to the Nine Hells, it returns with information it will have gained, potentially benefiting the efforts of their future agents against us. Like letting a spy return to the enemy. Is it feasible to capture the demon, and hold it prisoner?"

Aëyr, selkie. Free Holds.

---

It was odd being in Southblood as a Queen's Blade and not as a slave. Rarely had she been let out onto the streets—the last time she had walked them of her own free volition had been when she had attempted escape with Eüchia. Not exactly pleasant memories.

In a way that almost disturbed her, she felt like she was back home. As though this cruel city that had shackled and shamed and left her for dead was where she truly belonged.

Shaking the unwelcome thoughts from her mind, she focused instead on the task at hand. Aëyr had a nagging suspicion that Abida's hypothetical individual would be Aëyr herself, ignoring the fact that she had almost no experience in the artform. Not all prostitutes are trained to dance. "I doubt we shall be able to locate an individual who's skill can match that of Mikan in such a short time." Pausing with uncertainty, she considered their options again. Distasteful as it was to consider Abida's proposition, she did have a point.

"However, I agree with Abida. Mikan, unless subjected to significant disguise, risks identification. I suggest the original proposition." Motioning to the sling tied around her waist as a belt, she explained. "A variety of weapons could be disguised as clothing, and so long as the guards die quickly, there should be little alarm."

Looking over her companions, she noted that save herself and Mikan, they did not seem particularly suited to the art of subterfuge. Both Child and Abida were warriors and little else. Though that could be advantageous, if it came to killing the guards bare-handed. Mars's ingenuity, however, might prove quite useful.

Mars was silent for a moment as Mikan explained the options before them. Afterwards when Aeyr and Abida offered thier opinions, Mars looked at Mikan once more, up and down and then exclaimed, "I can't be the only one who prefers the second option... I think the second option is perfect," Mars stated as he leaned in with a smile, "but Abida is on the right track. We do need another dancer. A second dancer."

Mars looked at Child and Abida, then at Aeyr. "One of you, yes that's perfect!" Mars again exclaimed as he brought his hands together for a quick clap, then placing them on his hips as he began nodding again. He gave a sly smile and seemed to drift off, staring at the women, "Yeah... that's perfect. "

"Besides," He began ,"If we only need to cheat for the plan to succeed, then it's a guarantee. Cheating is what I do second best."

Some of the slaves he had seen on the journey wore barely enough to cover anything, and sometimes what they wore didn't actually cover anything at all. Mars imagined the slaves to be dancing would be suited in similar attire, "I really do believe the second choice is our best option here. As to the recognition problem... wear a mask. That'll get him curious."

Rheinfeld - Scheideweg; Draza
Small and deft; sneaky but pure and innocent in demeanour

Also, soothing aura!

---

The journey back homeward was one she wasn’t exactly anticipating to be on so soon after her joining the ranks of the Blades, but it was one she’d relish anyway. Not only for the ride and time spent on the road with her new companions as she tried to befriend even more of them, but also for some old friends. While she never had all the Templar in her extended circle of friends, there were some, and they were here with her. From days so long past that it seems almost a distant memory.

Days when there were gods. When good and evil were simpler. When she befriended the archetypical order of mage hunters and traveled with them for the defence of the nation, the betterment of the people, keeping their spirits good and lifted.

Many say that the Templar have given up their ability to smile for the sake of their order. They’re wrong.

There were seven from the old group here; Templar Lanzo, Templar Augustyna, Templar Margarete, Templar Ladislava, Templar Jarek, Templar Dariusz, Templar Bartolomej, and Templar Zbynek, and while the others of the Blades were not so welcome near the Templar, Draza found herself warmly welcomed by her old friends and rode near them for a great duration of the ride.

“So how’s our mascot?” asked Zbynek, reaching over to ruffle her unbraided hair with a finger as one would use a hand for a full sized person.

Draza swatted at it but grinned nonetheless, “Eh, you know, just finding new groups to try to keep grinning.”

Dariusz leaned forward against his horse to try to get his eyes level with Draza, “Still doing that in a pure way, right?”

Ladislava was quick to smack Dariusz on the back, “Brother Dariusz, mind yourself!” she said with a heavy tone, disguising her own grin in the process, “Draza’s a proper little lady, she’d never do that just for someone’s smile.”

“Not even her own?” Dariusz pulled back to look at Ladislava, and missed Draza throw a small stone at him as it bounced harmlessly off his armour.

“Who I know is my business, not your prerogative, Dariusz,” she chastised, holding a small hand out as Ladislava gave her a gentle highfive.

“I can’t believe how childish you all get around her,” Jarek shook his head slowly as he rode along on his own horse.

“Big talk coming from someone who’s as ticklish as you are,” Margarete spoke up, “Not very manly to laugh so hard that you pis--” he was cut off as Draza threw a small stone against his armour too. Margarete turned to Draza and stuck her tongue out, a gesture she returned before making a childish gesture of her hands as well.

“Hey, that only happened once! And I’m not ticklish to any of you, so,” Jarek began and stammered a bit before giving a false glare at Draza, “And even then it wasn’t ticklish. It was my body just thinking it was being attacked and being sensitive to it… keep me on my feet.”

“You were anything but on your feet,” Draza interrupted with a childlike singsong tone to her voice, and Zbynek broke into a hearty chuckle at the memory.

“You were like a wriggling little bug, a man possessed. We had to convince everyone that you weren’t actually possessed by a demon that eve!” Dariusz spoke up.

Jarek looked frustrated as hell as he turned over to Augustyna, “Little help here, Sist--”

“As your sister in so many ways, you should know I’m all but getting off on your embarrassment right now,” Augustyna said with a remarkably even and cool tone to her voice. More than Jarek’s sister in the order, she was also his sister by the same mother, but a different father, “Besides, you brought this on yourself.”

And on it went.

While Draza and her old friends reminisced about the ‘good old days’, things were not all light and carefree. The journey was still long, and in longer hours still talk of what came of those who were not able to be there came up. There were deaths of friends, and the uncomfortable talk of the Republic, which Draza defended best she could.

Eventually, the entire group arrived at the field and tents of discussion for terms and other such things. Where Draza, and the other wordsmiths would be most needed. A civil war was not something that could be talked out of, specially when one such party within it had essentially gone full evil.

However, it seemed that Taigyn and Davian were somewhat uneasy, though for what reasons exactly Draza couldn’t quite pick up on, until Davian spoke up, “Alida is unaccounted for.” So much was true, Draza couldn’t see Alida, and that wasn’t exactly good news given her importance. But, maybe she was just at her side of the encampments. They did travel in differing groups.

“We should rectify this. Davian, find her and ensure she is safe.” Taigyn spoke to Davian, and Draza almost mirrored Davian’s feelings of the request. That was not, at least in her mind, the best person to send after them. Davian on his own did not seem one to hold his tongue, and Alida was one that would draw it out, and not in the ways that most would enjoy.

“Right... Of course, me. The one she threw a dagger at.” Davian said, flatly in his own way of begrudging agreement despite disapproval.

Taigyn smiles a little smugly. “Don't say anything and you'll be fine.” Davian leaves without any further protest towards the Republican side of the camp, and Draza turned to her companions of the Templar.

“I think I should go too,” she said to the old friends. They weren’t too comfortable with open agreement with her line of thought, whether they had agreement or not, but there was an awkward nod from them, “Besides, they’re my people too, right?”

"I'll help you find Alida." Zin stepped forth from the group of Queen's Blades and followed Davian, "Better two sets of eyes than one, after all.” Draza turned around and saw Zin, a friend in the Blades that she had talked with before about illusions and noncombat and the like, trying to join up diplomatically.

“Well, if you have to go, do you still have your whistle?” asked Margarete, taking Draza’s attention from Zin and Davian. Draza nodded quickly and pulled out an old metal whistle, something from her time with them, a call for help that the seven of them knew quite well.

“Two blows and you guys come and save my little pixie butt, I remember,” she said as she dangled the whistle and put it back away, “I’ll see you guys later, it’s probably nothing. Alida should be fine…” she wasn’t entirely sure of that, and nor were her friends. Regardless, she took her leave of them upon her steed and came up over behind Zin and Davian, “Templar Davian, I do hope you do not mind my companionship on the saunter o’er. Don’t think I’m here to try to take over your work, I just have some sweets from the trail I’d like to share with them as well,” she said going for her pack to pull out a crisp trail biscuit made with dried berries, dried fruit, honey, and oats and grain made over a fire in the wilds instead of a kitchen. It was crisp and near caramelized, with a crunch and bursts of soft sweetness from the fruit and berries in it.

Then, her eyes went up and her head bowed as she rode behind respectfully still, “Oh, my manners, how rude of me to not offer you one first, specifically after saying that I was to bring them to others,” her head lowered still, “I beg forgiveness, is there a flavour you would prefer?”

Aslo and the trip from hell

Aslo had sat uncomfortably ever since the grand ball. Sure things had gone well enough with the Free Holds and its leaders, but damn Ethlinn straight to Hell. The woman was still on his mind since their encounter, and despite the turmoil he was sure it would cause he nearly wanted his colleagues who had answered her call to fail. He ran his finger along one of the walls in contemplation of the satisfaction that it would bring him, and decided that it would be almost worth it.

The trip to his current slice of hell had been one he hadn't paid much attention to. He had watched with falsified interest as Murderok and Griff the mercenaries discussed their various topics, he had tried to be friendly with the young Imperian guards that were accompanying them on this mission, but clearly in the solitude of their 10'000 year exile none of them had decided to become interesting. Now as they marched inside the entrance of the hill Aslo stretched out, feeling his back and neck crack. Next his knuckles and wrists. For the moment he shook off the failure and focused on the task at hand.

It was a simple question Florence was asking of them. There was of course a strong case for them to go to the Armoury over the dining hall. As clearly the prospect of weapons over food made sense to who had been in a shady looking dungeon before, however there was something less exciting about the idea of 10'000 year old weapondry. Aslo himself was already well armed, and he was fairly sure the rest of those in the party were aswell. "So Florence, is there anything of interest to find in the armoury, or will it be as desolate and empty there as it is everywhere else in these damned ruins My vote goes to which ever path leads to the artifact room more swiftly." He was quickly realizing that this would be less a thrill and more a trial.

Imperium - Anima Aeternum

---

Murd looked about his surroundings with a shudder. This place was far too like the Labyrinths that people liked to trap Minotaurs in and he didn't feel like becoming a permanent fixture of the place. Removing a ball of twine from his pack, the long bright red string made him feel a little more comfortable as he tied an end around a rock and dropped it onto the floor. He hoped he had enough balls of twine long enough....

Gryff was uncomfortable for other reasons. Indoors was not the best place for a Centaur. He held his weapons surely. But the environment wasn't one to inspire confidence. Fuck Magic. He thought to himself as Murd his string in place grabbed his spear in one hand and drew his Khopesh in the other. Gryff already had his broadsword and shield ready but this place was not right he continued to think.

"I reckon we check out the dining hall, any weapons left here are too damned old and in this air probably rustier than a Freehold Dungeon plate, but anyone who kicked the bucket in the hall might still have their coinpurses on them." Murderok said with a grin.

"Sounds good to me Murd." Gryff replied."

Esyllt Boudica
Amazons - The Greatest Hunt

---

The jungle was the densest concentration of both growth and humidity Esyllt had ever experienced. Sweat had spread from her brow to her shoulders and the whole of her back, even if she had changed out of her armour. It was difficult to adjust to the princess' pace and climate all at once, but even so every experience the young knight had ever had paled in comparison to entering the amazonian homegrounds. Esyllt could not keep her eyes off of the village and it's townsfolk... There was no helping it, even in the presence of her queen... Who seemed to feel much more natural in the environment.

It wasn't just the amazon that amazed Esyllt, however... Besides Naraem, who she had spent considerable time with studying golemancy and necromancy alike, their company was quite colourful... At least, if pale were a colour. There was a walking skeleton, whom Esyllt had at first assumed to have belonged to Naraem, but the way he spoke and acted for himself made Esyllt think otherwise. Then there was Alicia, whose skin was darker than she'd ever seen, in sheer contrast to her hair. Even in the amazon, she was the most exotic beauty out there, in Esyllt's mind. Finally, Maeven accompanied them also, although Esyllt was at slight discomfort with the manner they had parted ways at the ball... Yet that very conversation was what had lead to Esyllt coming to the aid of the amazons. She had to learn more about what they were up against... Something she soon would learn about from the princess herself.

Esyllt nodded in acknowledgment at Naraem as he proposed to fight a monster with a monster. However, his plan was put onto a backseat, as they would first discuss the infiltrator... Naraem's proposal here was shot down, and both Alicia and Rust seemed to prefer to duel. Esyllt figured that in an arena where passion for one's art was key, they would attempt to identify the infiltrator through her killing intent... Something they suspected it would feel for all of the Queen's Blades. This gave Esyllt an idea...

“Excuse me, your majesty, my comrades,” Esyllt spoke “I apologise for being so forward, but I am a telepath. I might be able to discern the succubus using these talents. I do not wish to upset your people, I know little of the amazon, less of their taboo. Would you be more open to telepathy than necromancy?”

Alexandria glances to the Ethlinn, who nods curtly, though eyes Esyllt with suspicion. “I believe that would be a better solution.”

Esyllt bowed slightly for their approval... “At your service,” Although she could feel the judgment cloud up in the air almost as thick as the humidity. Telepaths were not welcome in all circles, this Esyllt knew... But perhaps knowing this the succubus would be less suspicious...

“Mining is a conscious process. If I am successful, there is a chance the demoness will know. I would like to request one of the Queen's blades stand by.” Esyllt said, as her eyes shortly fell upon Alicia's, before she turned to the walking skeleton. “I believe this would give us a chance to prevent the intelligence from returning also, Russel.”

Rheinfeld - Scheideweg: Laenaia
Laena flicked her eyes around the group somewhat nervously. It didn't matter that she was travelling with the Blades and the Templars was practically an allied group for the mission, one do not simply forget what the Templars view of vampires generally were. Throughout the trip she had kept her mind busy from worrying by talking with the other travelling Blades whenever she could. Although somewhat saddened when she noticed that her fellow vampire was avoiding her, she put it aside as she entertained herself by playing along with Kasim's advancement. Unfortunately for the archer, she simply won't spend a night out with him while they're on the road. The other male was at least a good enough person to talk with. Her last companion baffled her however, in that the sprite apparently had traveled with a group of Templar in their duty and for some reason, seeing her flitting about made the vampire felt calm.

Upon arrival to the encampment, Laenaia noticed that some of the Crusaders were eyeing them warily, a fact that she noticed some of the other Blades noticed, especially after Kasim send his telepathic message. The sudden message did make her tense. Frowning under her hood, she thought on what she could do. Apparently Zin and Draza decided to look for Alida, while Kasim chased after the cloaked woman assassin. She looked at the last Blade and the tent. After a bit of thought, Laenaia decided to do the same thing as Kasim, only she went towards the Crusaders. She judged the reaction of the crusaders she approached, if any of them seemed hostile she would stop her approach.

Zayn - Rheinfeld - Scheideweg

---

"Finally, we are here. Out in the middle of nowhere, and quite vulnerable... Impressive, no?" Zayn couldn’t agree more with the Templar’s assessment. Surely there were better places to hold these talks? They had practically rolled out the red carpet for the Papacy to come ruin things.

And, judging from the suspicious Crusaders around the meeting tent, they could already be here. After hearing Kasim’s telepathic message, Zayn reached out with his mind as well as he could, trying to brush the thoughts of the odd guards and see if his suspicions might be confirmed. If the watch had just changed, then it was the perfect time to slip in and to set in motion any devious plans. Laenaia seemed to have the same idea to further investigate the off-kilter crusaders - hopefully her approach would attract the strange sentinel’s focus that that Zayn might more easily slip into their minds.

The other vampire, Zin and the cheerful sprite, Draza left with Davian to find Alida. Zayn hoped that their diplomatic influence would be enough to keep the templar from pissing off the Republic. In the same vein, Zayn hoped that Laenaia and himself would be enough to keep Zayn from shooting someone important.

Steven Gremlock~Imperium

To say the Goblin felt out of place here would have been an understatement. Between the Minotaur and Centaur pair, the Half Dragon, an Imperial with a strong distaste for mages, and the mysterious hooded human, Gremlock felt like he may have chosen the wrong assignment here. As the group entered the dungeon, his hair stood on end, this place was filled to the brim with magic. To be fair, he expected at least a little magic emanating from this place, given the artifact that was supposedly inside, but this was more of a tidal wave of energy washing over and around him. Clearly the tales of this Eternal Soul Gem were not exaggerated...although if this place was hidden from view of the Archmage, perhaps it was the mass of other artifacts found within. Either case was equally probable.

After the initial shock passed, something else crossed Gremlock's nose...gunpowder? Why would there be gunpowder here, of all places? It had to have been recent, otherwise the smell would have dissipated a long time ago, Question was, if Florence, and a presumably close circle of friends, were the only ones who knew of this place, why would there be gunpowder? When the door opened, a voice rang out, something about a Choir and Voices, but Gremlock's mind was much too focused on other matters to pay much attention. Ghosts, after all, had a tendency of blathering incoherent nonsense, at least as far as Gremlock was concerned.

Regardless, he entered the dungeon behind the rest of the Blades. Around his waist were two Alchemical Salves of Healing, made with Renaltan herbs, two Standard Potions of Fireball, a Basic Potion of Defensive Fortification, and an Empty Potion Bottle. All labeled for this mission, just in case. Soon enough, the Blades ran into an intersection between an old armory and an old dining hall. Both options sounded pretty bad, animated weapons were a probability in a place like this, and the lack of foreseeable dangers in the dining hall was perhaps the biggest danger of all.

It was at this point that the Doctor spoke up "Everyone, I am sensing...well two things actually. The first would be magic, but I guess that would be pretty obvious. The second however, is gunpowder, recently fired gunpowder if I'm not mistaken. Florence, did you or anyone you know of send forces to this place before we came here? On to the matter at hand though, I think we should head down the dining hall, armories in magical places have a nasty habit of being filled with weapons that are either useless, or trying to kill you. Still, I'm okay for either direction, just as long as we pick one!"

Liveria, Peril in the Mountains...

They were still on the surface but for some reason, gazing at the mountains, the feeling of being home returned to her, must be the looming presence of all that rock and stone that made her think like that. She glanced at her companion, Ceann did not seem fazed at all by the sight, her eyes wandering, ever alert for any hint of trouble. She resisted the urge to snort, back home in the Underdark she would do the same, but up here, in this strange environment she had no idea what was a threat or what was just the... chirping of birds. She just had to be mindful of her bodyguard's reactions who had spend decades on the surface.

When they reached the foothills and saw the crude posts with human skulls marking the orcish territory they were about to intrude upon she glanced at the skulls. They did not look worn or decayed, these ones were fresh... and the orcs had taken care to make sure they stood out to offer warning to any trespassers, not that this expedition seemed to care for the warning. She listened to the talking and smiled, oh yes... Orcs could be brutal... and savage... but if you encountered a tribe with a good blacksmith to give orc warriors decent weapons and armour, not to mention a mage or shaman with considerable power... then they are a force to be reckoned with. Look at the Orcs in the Free Holds... one would hardly call them savage of what they have established in those parts. Orc slaves make good shock troops in any battle... the fact that those skulls had been shined, with not hint of flesh or tissue remaining could mean the orcs inhabiting these parts were not as savage as one might suspect...

As they entered the mountains she shuddered, wrapping her cloak tighter around herself, "The presence of stone and rock reminds me a little of home but the cold I could do without." She grumbled.

Ceann smiled and shrugged, "It will get colder and difficult to breathe the higher we go, slow your breathing and take time to breathe in and out calmly and we will be fine." She murmured back, keeping one eye on the road ahead while also trying to keep watch of their surroundings. They were trespassers here and they had seen signs what happened to those who violated the border the Orcs maintained...

Andrea tightened the cloak around her and muttered something about the freezing cold under her breath, they continued for a while when suddenly the group halted, Ceann also perking up and signing to Andrea after Helénē did so too. Gritting her teeth she glanced at Ceann who signed for her to be quiet, only when she narrowed her eyes in irritation at that Ceann continued with the signs for 'Ambush' and 'Ahead'. She listened to the conversation and frowned, provoking the orcs might work. She had no desire to find another path, turning their backs on Orcs... or whatever evil there was out there the Angel had sensed.

She turned to Ceann, her mouth opening to ask what she thought of all this when she blinked in surprise, closing her mouth. Ceann had dismounted and readied her bow, just finishing putting the string in place and walked to the leadership of their group, apparently happy to not consult with Andrea with whatever she was up to.

Stopping she glanced at Helénē, Mila and Gabriel, nodding curtly. "I'll scout." She didn't ask it, she simply stated a simple fact, hunching down to a crouch she glanced at the terrain ahead, looking at a spot on the higher ground some distance from the ambush site with the darkness that might have the presence of a hint of shadow where she could perhaps observe whoever or whatever lied in wait for them at the prepared boulders on the path ahead... and vanished, her form turning dark, like a shadow before she was gone from the spot she had been crouched at.

Andrea blinked and spluttered, growling as she tightened her hand around the handle of her snakewhip, the enchanted snake-head slipping out and circling itself around her waist, sensing her anger and irritation. She would need a word with her companion to consult her first before acting like she did. Especially without her approval or consent was her thought as she silently fumed...